Cry Havoc
by secretaryofsillywalks
Summary: AU.Non-magic.slightly western. Harry Potter, a guntoting mercenary for hire in a post-apocalyptic world, gets entangled in a vicious war between rival gangs - The Order of the Phoenix and the Knights of Walpurgis. Full summary inside.


CRY HAVOC

Full summary: After a plague, natural disasters, and war devestate the global population the survivors move to underground cities. Above them is "The Surface" a barren wasteland, home to outlaws and the underclass. Crime and disease run rampant, and gang wars are a staple of surface life. Amid the backdrop of a mud-slinging election, a gang war - between The Order of the Phoenix, a rag-tag group of train robbers, and The Knights of Walpurgis, "Upper Class Hounds" from the underground society - is threatening to spill into the safe underground cities. The only way The Order can win is with the help of Harry, an infamous mercenary known for taking the toughest jobs.

A/N: Please review and tell me if you are interested in reading this type of story, I haven't fully comited to writing it yet because I am not sure if there is an audience for it.

P.S. I do not own Harry Potter.

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Draco stiffened as he felt the cold barrel press against his head. A small click confirmed that the pull of the trigger could come at any moment. He waited with bated breath and thudding heart. He glanced sideways, hoping to catch a view of his killer. No such luck; only the silver metal of an old-fashioned revolver was in his view. An oddity that gun, for sure. Nobody used guns beside surface gangs and outlaws these days – and none of those idiots would have been able to make it past the guards at the gates. They could not have made it underground. They especially would not have been able to sneak into his apartment. No, this was not a gang member, robber, or ex-girlfriend seeking petty revenge. This was someone with skill, someone who did this often. Someone for hire.

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Harry's eyes snapped open as he felt himself beginning to slide off the grimy leather seat. The train had screeched to a halt, the brakes protesting loudly, and now sat idly, the coal engine still purring. He steadied himself before he sat up groggily and looked around him, rubbing his eyes. There was an unsettling, oppressive silence upon the train. Something was happening, something big.

The rays of the sun, magnified in intensity because of the glass window, were beating against his face. It was a little after high noon, judging by the position of the scorching hot sun over the barren, dusty landscape. Harry could see the steam rising from the ground; it must be nearly one-hundred and ten degrees, Fahrenheit, outside, per usual. Too hot for anything to be stirring. He pulled the blind down, instantly bathing himself in the cool darkness.

Suddenly it started. Gunshots rung out and screams filled the air, followed by raucous laughter and hoots. Harry sat up straighter as the bawdy voices and clunky footsteps moved closer. A few more gunshots – they must be from a surface gang, nothing but vapid lowlife scum, the only ones who used guns (beside himself, of course, but Harry was an exception to the rule). Even Harry could not stand to be within their company.

He placed his hand on his plasma gun, which, while nowhere near the same level as an old handgun, could still cause a decent amount of damage and pain. He had never used it before – having just acquired it yesterday from the generous Mister Hepspring as a replacement for his favorite Colt Revolver – but thought the sight of it would scare mindless baggers in submission. He really did not want to have to kill anybody today.

Harry could see a curvy silhouette through the door. Then, there she was standing in the doorway, a decent looking Magnum pointed at him, her hair wild and frizzed and her skin either very tan or just covered in a layer of grim.

"Don' even try it. Gimme yer weapon," She gestured at Harry's hand with her gun. Harry had no choice but to slide the weapon to her and raise his hands into the air. She stopped the gun with her booted foot and picked up the plasma gun and, after giving it a quick once over, placed it in her belt loop. "Good boy," she smirked, closing the distance between them with long strides, "Now gimme yer money."

Harry, without his eyes leaving her greedy face, withdrew a wad of cash from his trench pocket. Her brown eyes widened slightly and she licked her lips hungrily.

She stretched out her calloused hand. "Where you git all that money from? You a High Class Hound?" she laughed jeeringly, flashing a set of straight white teeth – something of a rarity on the Surface.

Harry smirked as he placed the money in her hand, but did not let go. She tried to pull it out of his grip, but to no avail. "It was a gift."

"A gift ay?" She narrowed her eyes. "You hear that Neville? A gift he says! – Tha's some migh'y fine gif't now gimme and we'll let you go jus' fine." Harry still did not let go, and the woman growled angrily.

A big man, just as tan as the woman, – Neville, Harry assumed – stood in the doorway. "Aw what a pertty litle boy 'e is! Let's just take 'im! Worth a real horror penny 'is type is, more than 'e git for 'is tricks," Neville cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Harry stood abruptly. "Sorry, I ain't that type!" He grabbed the girl's forearm arm and twisted it quickly, popping her shoulder out of the socket. She yelped in pain and dropped her gun to the floor. Harry pushed her into the big man, knocking him off balance, and snatched her Magnum during the confusion.

The girl, seething, charged at him, completely forgetting the plasma gun that was still in her belt. Harry jumped over her, grabbing the molding of the doorway with one hand and swung his body. He kicked her in the nose, causing blood to spurt on the floor, and jumped down, landing on Neville. Harry swiftly kicked him in the jaw, knocking him out, before running to the end of the train cart.

"You bathard!" The woman bellowed, hand clutched over her nose. She followed him into the hall, plasma gun now in her hand. She looked mad, blood dribbling down her chin and onto her white vest and hair flying wildly.

Harry jumped out the end of the cart and onto the solid orange dirt, and sprinted toward the front of the train.

So much for a day off. All he wanted was some rest, and here he was trying to rescue a train from a deranged gang of robbers without even a bounty to retrieve in the end. The woman was close behind him, firing the plasma gun at him. She was obviously not used to such modern equipment as her aim was far off, melting rocks and scolding the train side.

Harry almost did not notice the redhead standing in front of him, seeing him at only the last second before swerving around him.

"Ronald! Ge' him!" the woman panted, furious.

"On it Mione!" He hollered back, snapping to attention. He fired at Harry, nearly shooting him in the foot. Harry, aware of the narrow escape, jumped onto the deck railing of train cart and flung the door open. Screams met him inside, but he continued onward, undaunted, past the pale green faces of the society members still holding their martini glasses and playing cards.

He was close to the front now, he knew it, only two carts away. There would be no more robbers in the front; they were working their way down the train. Behind him, he could hear the screaming start behind him again. Wretched people, those society members. The two robbers were gaining on him.

Harry slipped into the Conductors' Cabin, panting heavily, only to come face to face with three impressive sub-machine guns held by three equally impressive burly men, and two bound and gagged conductors. Harry tried not to pause as he figured a way out. This was nothing he could not handle – he had faced worse odds before. He bet he could even incorporate the hot coals into his plan. He set his face in grim determination and raised his stolen gun –

"Pottah?" Harry paused, lowering his gun slightly. "It is you! I knew it! What are you doing here you dirty scoundrel?"

Harry squinted at the man speaking to him. "Noah? From Bangor?"

The man puffed out his chest. "The one and only."

A shaggy haired man looked at Noah. "Oy, you know him?" he asked, pointing with his massive gun, the belt clips clinking together as he moved, "Potter, you say? As in The Potter?"

"Ayuh. Me and him go way back, ya see," Noah gestured vaguely with his hand, his gun resting by his side, "Did a job togethah in New London."

Harry nodded. "That we did. Ain't seen you around in awhile. But, enough chitchat. I got some crazy broad out there tryin-a kill me." Harry glanced behind him and moved so he could face the door, lowering his gun as he did so.

Noah frowned deeply. "We can't have that. Remus, guard that door, make sure Hermione isn't gonna try and ice Pottah."

The third man, a dirty blond, nodded and quickly walked over to block the door, shaking his head. "She's a crazy cat sometimes, yup, yup."

"Must be 'cause of that name," Harry muttered.

"You, Potter, you jus sit back and relax," the shaggy haired man lit a cigarette, looking like a real High Class Hound, "We gonna be gone in no time, see? Jus gonna collect our booty and be gone. Then you go and hit whoever you gotta hit-"

"I ain't no hit-man," Harry snarled as he crouched to get a better look at the conductors, "I just take jobs."

"Yea," the shaggy haired man nodded dubiously, "yea. Well, as soon as we're gone, you can get back to your 'jobs'." The man, he had that damn annoying proper society accent too, but like he was trying to cover it up.

"A job is a job, ayuh," Noah nodded contently. He kicked a conductor; the man slumped over, his head lolling to the side, unconscious, stripped hat tumbling to the dirty ground.

Annoyance flashed across Harry's face. "This was 'sposed to be my day off. You lot had to go and ruin it," Harry stood an sneered at the man, "I ain't takin' no jobs today, but that don't mean I won't -"

"Lemme in Remus! I'll kill tha bloody scalawag! Hittin' a girl, hurtin' poor Neville! Think he can outsmar' us! I'll show him."

Harry crouched defensively, finger on the trigger of the Magnum. Noah and the other man shifted slightly.

"-Just let her in Remus!" Another Hound. Why the hell were they here, robbing a train with surface dwellers?

"No. You know who that is? That's Potter. The Potter." There was silence. Harry could not see what was happening past Remus's bulky body, which filled up the doorway. It made him uneasy.

"No…" disbelief colored the woman's voice.

"Yup, yup," Remus nodded, his dirty hair bouncing.

"The Potter….wuz his gig?"

Remus shrugged. "Says he dunt have none."

"None? – None, Potter? You gone soft?" she cackled. "I gots a deal for you Potter. But only if you show your pretty lil face. Whoda thunk him so handsome."

Harry paused, considering his options. The three men were looking at him intently. Harry sighed. "Take her gun, Remus. Then let her in." He stood; hand still on his gun trigger.

Remus stared at Harry, a calculating look on his face, before nodding. He moved nimbly out of the way, revealing the wild haired woman and the redheaded man. She walked, catlike, into the Cabin, eyeing Harry up and down.

She spoke to the shaggy haired man, never taking her eyes off Harry. "We's almost done here. The others are takin' tha treasure back to the hogs. We's leaving soon too." The man nodded.

Harry, his face blank, stared down the woman. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice chilly.

She laughed loudly. "Not here Pretty Potter. This ain' no place for a deal, you see? You's comin' with us, see. Then we make the deal. Git you a job, purtty."

Harry sneered, ready to shoot. "No, I don't want no job."

She started angrily, but snapped her mouth shut with an audible click. "Boys you git back to the hogs and leave me and Potter here alone."

The men did not spare her a second glance as they quickly walked out of the Conductor's Cabin. She was obviously the leader of the gang. That or a whore. She certainly dressed like one. Harry didn't think boots that high were practical, or even possible to run in.

She pouted he cherry red lips and stroked her hair. "There's a lot in it for you," she leaned close and whispered into Harry's ear, "take this job and you git anything you could ever wan', and more. A real horror penny, a real horror bird – or dog, if you like – a real dead heir and a damn hero badge on yer ches'. Sound good see? All tha' for very lil in return. "

Harry pushed the woman away. "I don't want no badges or birds or your dirty pennies."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Hypocrite. You-" she fingered his shirt collar, "-are comin' with us. Humor me, Pretty Potter. Hear us out."

***

Harry silently cursed at himself. He was a goddamn fighter, once one of the best in the Force, and here he was hands tied behind his back and Magnum pointed at his head, walking across the parched earth like some outlaw scum. Sure, mercenary work wasn't the most honorable field to be in, but at least it was better than being banished up here and having Hunters on your tail 24/7.

Harry glanced backwards. The train glinted in the distance; they had already walked a far way and had further yet to go – he couldn't even see the jeeps yet- and it was hot, nearly one o'clock now. Over one hundred and some odd degrees and not a cloud in the sky. He wished he could take his coat off. He was thirsty, lips cracked, and ready to whine for a cuppa.

The girl was right. He had gone soft. It disgusted him. One easy job and he was already getting lazy. Mr. Hepspring was possibly the easiest hit he had ever done, and definitely the most profitable. All he had to do was walk into his flat and cover his chubby face with a pillow; everyone would assume to gluttonous old man choked in his sleep. No one would really ever care. He, obviously, was not a very well liked man.

It was a shame the raging bitch marching along behind him hadn't felt the need to give the plasma gun back to him. That was a delicate piece of modern technology, worth thousands of dollars, and here she was swinging it around haphazardly and on the verge of overheating it. Harry sighed loudly. The Magnum collided with his head. He winced. "Ow, woman. Knock that off!"

"Don' make any more noise! We're almos' there."

Harry turned in disgust and watched his feet move over the orange ground as he walked. He couldn't remember a time when it wasn't a desert landscape up on the surface. For all he's known, it had always been this way. A lizard skittered out of Harry's path and onto a stone.

Harry glanced back toward the train again– it was long gone. Gone. His only hope of getting to Old Moscow, gone; his only hope of relaxation and a good nap, gone. Suddenly he was very angry. His feet moved faster. He wanted to hit that stupid bitch, she ruined everything. He did not want a job. He wanted – needed - to get to Old Moscow. He needed to know the truth, he needed to know why. Not knowing, it killed him. Tore his heart up into tiny pieces and then pulverized them with a stone and pestle before feeding it to the roaches.

That train was his only chance, and she ruined it. A sick desire rose within him. He wanted revenge. Oh, he would get it. He would wring her of everything first though, take her up on her offer of anything. Such a vapid girl. She did not know who she messed with.

A rough hand grabbed Harry and pulled him into a jeep. Harry looked around; He had not realized they had made it to the transportation. Yes, he was definitely getting soft, letting his defenses down. Three jeeps, camouflaged, loaded with cargo and people roared to life. Harry noticed the slumping figure of Neville, his face swollen and bruised, sitting behind the redheaded man and Hermione. Harry cleared his throat and turned to the woman beside him.

"Where's Noah?"

She looked over the top of her big sunglasses at him, appraising him. "This him? Potter?" Hermione gave a slight nod and a toothy smile.

Harry's stomach jumbled at hearing another Hound accent, and he looked at the girl closer. Red hair, freckles. Ah, yes. Harry smirked. He knew who this was. Hired Woman Weasley. The Scarlet Gal. He remembered the headlines. No wonder she was up here – an exile. The other redhead must be her only loyal brother. Then, the shaggy haired man too must be an exile.

"Noah left with his share, of course. So, I hear we've got a job for you." She smiled lecherously. Harry bet she did that a lot.

"Indeed."

She paused a moment. The woman turned from Harry and leaned forward to tap the driver's shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and grinned, "Hold tigh' pretty boy!" before slamming his foot onto the accelerator.

Harry lurched backwards, the wind whipping through his hair, and grabbed onto the roll bar of the jeep to keep steady. He could hear the excited hooting and hollering coming from the other cars. They were standing, like daredevils, in their seats and hanging out the side of the jeep. The scenery was but a blur beneath them, a solid strip of orange.

Harry slumped into his seat, exhausted. He knew it would be a long while before they reached their destination. It was time he catch up on sleep.

***

For the second time that day, or night rather – the sun was setting - Harry found himself jolted awake as the jeep bounced over a jutting rock. Harry contemplated his next action carefully and decided on glaring daggers at the drivers head. A soft giggle floated into the air from beside him and Harry fixed his murderous glare upon her.

"Finally awake then eh?" she asked as she reclined back into her seat, her legs stretched out before her. She flashed him a charming smile. Harry turned away.

There was an awkward pause, only the sound of the humming jeep engine and crickets filling the air.

"I'm Ginny," she said, sitting up and offering her hand.

Harry stared at it. "I know." Her face fell.

"Oh." Once again they descended into silence, Ginny fidgeting with her gold watch. "We'll be there soon. A minute or two away." Harry nodded.

***

The jeep glided to a stop in front of a cave that had two or three twisted old trees growing near it. Ginny hopped out the jeep quickly and presented the location.

"Welcome to…Camp Phoenix!"

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**A/N: Reviews are appreciated! I'm not sure if I'm going to go through with this story, so please tell me if you like it so far. I hope the accents aren't too tough to read. **


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